Back to Good
by Shamelsshussy
Summary: A few conversations that help Brittany and Santana get from the fight in Duets to the giggly good times in the Rocky Horror ep.
1. Chapter 1

Note: Chapter 1 of 3.

In the Rocky Horror Episode, it seemed like Kurt and Brittany were hanging out. I thought maybe he'd have some interesting things to say about her situation with Santana. Then some other conversations sort of announced themselves, to explain how S and B made up.

* * *

At practice on Tuesday Kurt realized it had been a whole week already. A week of sad puppy dog faces and smiles that faded too fast. A week without any mention of gay sharks or literate cats or bisexual giraffes or any other gems from the weird and wonderful land that Brittany lived in. Just yeses and nos and everything muted, with a little less spark.

"Brittany!" Coach's megaphone cut through the music. "Is the blondeness affecting your coordination now? Double back handspring. DOUBLE. You're throwing everyone's timing off." She aimed her remote at the stereo and clicked back to the beginning of the song. "Everyone, reset it. Go again."

The squad groaned. This was the third time through the sequence already.

"Sorry." Brittany mumbled at the floor.

Kurt jogged back around to his place at the end of the line, behind Santana. His job for the first part of the routine was to stay out of the way and look pretty. After the tumbling runs, he came in with a solo.

"What the hell are you looking at Hummel?" Santana snapped at him as he approached.

"Nothing!"

Kurt dropped to one knee, pretending to tie his sneaker. Because it had also been a week of shoves and elbows from Santana. It was more systemic than personal, but Kurt bruised easy, so he just steered clear.

When he stood back up, her icy gaze had already moved on to another target.

"God, Courtney. Space out properly." Courtney was a little to the left of where she should have been, and Santana yanked her back into place. Surprised, Courtney stumbled, landing on Santana's immaculate white sneaker.

"What the hell Santana?"

Coach pushed play and the music blared up again.

"Get the fuck off my foot." Now Santana shoved Courtney hard in the other direction, sending her sprawling.

The music died.

"Santana! My office. NOW." Coach Sylvester cast a withering glance at the rest of the squad. "Hit the showers. And next time, bring all of your brain cells to practice. That goes _double_ for you B. "

Most of the team disappeared quickly, heading off to the locker room as fast as they could.

Brittany stayed where she was on the gym floor, eyes on Coach's office. Through the open door, she could make out Santana's silhouette, standing with arms crossed. She watched until Coach crossed the gym, entered the office and closed the door. Then she slowly headed off toward the locker room.

Kurt watched for a second, and then caught up with her. "Hey Britt."

"Hey." And there was one of those smiles - a flash of genius, then back to blank.

He wrapped an arm around Brittany.

"You're coming home with me."

* * *

Santana pressed her arms close to her chest, hard, until she could feel the pressure against her ribs, forcing air out of her lungs. Her throat felt tight and she breathed like this - little, shallow breaths - until she could swallow again.

"Santana, your behavior this week has been unacceptable."

Santana rolled her eyes. Coach's back was turned, but somehow, she saw it anyway.

"Don't pull that nonsense with me. You may treat other teachers in this school with blatant disregard, but I am your coach and I will not stand for it. You're endangering your teammates out there. So unless you cut out the Raging Bull act immediately…well, S, there's only one place lower than the bottom of the pyramid. And that's off the team."

A flicker of panic showed on Santana's face.

"No!…No. I'll get it together. I promise." Santana bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself from the hot tears she felt pricking at her eyes.

"Well. That's a start." Sue put a strong hand on Santana's shoulder and pushed her down into a chair. "Have a seat."

She perched on the edge of her desk. "Would you care to tell me what the source of your bottomless rage is Santana?"

Santana squirmed.

"No? Then I'll hazard a guess. From the way B's been tripping over her own feet all week, I'm going to guess that it has something to do with her."

Santana opened her mouth to speak.

"No, no, let me finish. I feel like House."

Sue stood up again and strode the length of the room as she spoke. "Let's see. You two have worked your way through every warm body in this school district without any unpleasantness, so I doubt it's some petty boyfriend drama."

Santana stared at the floor.

"Hmmm….maybe Brittany drowned your pet hamster, or burned your house down, or forgot to return your extensive collection of Powerpuff Girls DVDs and yes, Santana, everyone knows about your precious Powerpuff Girls DVDs."

Santana shook her head no.

"Well…I'm not surprised. And you wanna know why I'm not surprised S? Because Brittany doesn't strike me as the kind of girl who'd do any of those terrible things. In fact, she strikes me as a good person.'

Santana blinked rapidly, but she felt the tears rising again.

"…a really good inside, good person. Not goody goody like Q. Or a do-gooder like…" Sue ground her teeth, "Schuester."

She laid a hand on Santana's shoulder, but this time, the viselike grip was replaced by a comforting squeeze. "And definitely not like me and you."

Santana couldn't help it anymore. One hot tear spilled onto her cheek.

Sue walked over and sat behind her desk. She opened a drawer, picked up a packet of tissues and tossed it to Santana.

"Here's the thing about good people like B. They're so freakishly maladapted to this cruel world that even as they watch you bite and kick and gnaw on the adorably delicate bones of a baby albino gorilla…"

Santana wrinkled her nose.

"….they still look for the best part of you."

Santana tried hard. She tried so incredibly hard. But more tears followed the first.

"Oh but S, that's the good news. People like that can usually find it in their grotesquely large hearts to forgive people like us. So just wipe that baby albino gorilla off your mouth and figure out a way to apologize for whatever evil, manipulative, completely rational and well reasoned thing you've done."

Santana wiped her eyes and focused on keeping her breath steady.

Sue turned her attention to some paperwork. She didn't look up as Santana headed to the door.

"If you can keep from physically assaulting anyone for the next week, I'll _consider_ moving you to the middle of the pyramid."

Santana turned. "I'll try. I really will."

Sue waved her off. "Don't waste my time." She looked up and met Santana's eyes. "I'm not the one who needs to hear it."

Santana slipped through the door and sprinted to the locker room. She picked up her gym back and ran off to the parking lot without showering. But when she got there, Brittany's car was already gone.

* * *

"Hi Dad."

Burt waved from his spot on the couch and paused the episode of Deadiest Catch he was watching.

Kurt stepped into the living room.

"How are you felling? What did you have for lunch? Do you need…?"

"I'm fine Kurt." Burt got up off the couch, slowly, but with more confidence than a week ago. He crossed over and put an arm around Kurt, pulling him close for a second. Then he stepped back again, and leaned on the back of a chair. "I had that rice stuff you left for lunch."

"It was quinoa."

"Well, whatever. It actually tasted pretty good once I piled a burger and cheese on top."

Kurt's eyes went wide. "Dad!"

"Just kiddin'" Burt grinned at his son.

Brittany fiddled with the buttons on her Cheerios jacket.

"You're…Brittany, right?"

She rippled the fingers of her left hand. "Hi Mr. Hummel."

"You two aren't gonna make out again, are you?"

Kurt went into the kitchen and got two glasses down from the cabinet. "Nah," he called over his shoulder. "Just girl talk."

Burt went back to his spot on the couch. "Well, have fun." He pressed play. A big pot of crab went tumbling onto the deck of the Cornelia Marie.

Brittany followed Kurt into the kitchen. He poured two glassed of seltzer and tossed Brittany a bag of Smartfood popcorn to carry. Brittany pointed at some apples on the counter.

"Yeah, grab me one too."

They headed down to Kurt's room.

"Dad, I'll leave the door open. Just call if…"

"I'm fine Kurt!" Burt shook his head, but he was smiling.

In Kurt's room, Brittany took off her jacket, settled down on the couch and chomped on her apple.

Kurt put the glasses down on the coffee table, carefully laying down coasters first. He retrieved his school bag and pulled out his ipod. He settled it in the dock and dialed up some Nina Simone. He adjusted the volume and headed back across the room to join Brittany on the couch. He tore open the bag of popcorn.

Brittany swallowed her bite of apple. "I'm really glad your dad woke up."

Kurt turned to study her. Her profile was backlit by the lamp on the side table, and the special diffuse bulbs he'd installed was making a golden halo of her blonde hair. But her mouth was still, her eyes were quiet.

"Brittany, it pains me to see you so glum. What's going on with you lately?"

Brittany shrugged, took another huge bite of apple.

Kurt tried again.

"I can't help but notice, you and Santana haven't really been talking this week. You've been moping, she's been kicking people..."

Brittany finished her apple in two more giant bites and looked for a place to put the core. Kurt held up the wastebasket next to him and she tossed it in. She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them.

"Kurt, did you like it? When we made out?

Kurt was surprised. He swallowed a mouthful of popcorn and took a sip of seltzer before answering carefully.

"That was the first time I ever kissed anyone. So that made it exciting. Interesting."

"Yeah, but did you like it?

Kurt placed his glass back down on its coaster. "It was nice to be close to you. You smell good, and you're really warm."

Brittany smiled sadly "Santana says I'm like a furnace." She looked over at Kurt. "What's a furnace?"

Kurt tried to keep Brittany on topic.

"I'll explain it later. Anyway, it was nice. But I think, with someone I really have romantic feelings for it'll be different. More than nice."

Brittany bit her lip. "It is. It feels so good it makes your stomach hurt. But like, if you puked it would just be Skittles and fireflies that came out."

Kurt got it then. He swung his feet off of Brittany's knees and tucked them under himself instead, so he was kneeling close to her on the couch.

"You really like her, don't you?"

Brittany met his gaze. "I asked her to sing a duet with me."

"Aww, Brit." Kurt's voice was soft. He rubbed Brittany's shoulder. "I'm going to guess she wasn't receptive to that idea?"

Brittany dropped her gaze again, focused on threading her fingers together in her lap. "She said she didn't want to sing about making lady babies, she just needed to digest her food.'

Kurt didn't bother to make sense of the details. He understood the point.

"I just thought it would be a nice song.'Cause she comes to my window. And I like listening to her breath."

Kurt got the references. "Melissa Etheridge?" He raised an eyebrow. "A boldly Sapphic choice. Too bold for Santana apparently."

Brittany sighed and threw her head back against the couch cushions.

Kurt took a minute to think. He used the time to unlace and kicked off his sneakers. When he was seated cross-legged on the couch, he went ahead and asked her.

"Do you like girls, or do you just like Santana?"

Brittany kept her head back and her eyes closed. "Boobs are fun. But hooking up with other girls never gives me that puking feeling. Or the orgasms."

Kurt blushed. "What about guys?"

Brittany shook her head. "Just Santana." She raised her head and turned toward Kurt. "Do you think I'm a giant dyke?"

He picked up the popcorn bag again, took a handful and chewed thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe it's just Santana. Or maybe you're bi. Or maybe a lot of things. It doesn't matter."

Brittany leaned her head on Kurt's shoulder and reached across to grab some popcorn for herself. "I miss her. Now that she thinks I'm super lesbian, she's not gonna snuggle me anymore."

"The irony of that sentence…"

"What?"

"Nevermind. But I don't think that's true. Santana clearly cares about you a lot." Kurt thought about it for a second. "Actually, you're like, the only person she cares about at all."

"So why was she so mean to me?" Brittany's voice was tiny.

"She's…probably just scared."

"She's always saying she's not scared of anything."

"Brit, I think she's kinda scared of everything."

Brittany was quiet for a minute, and Kurt was about to explain what he meant. But Brittany spoke first. "I know."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Years later, Kurt would remember that in those minutes, he stopped thinking of Brittany as dumb and started focusing on her queer talent for the literal, her quiet gift of uncomplicated affection.

"I just want her to talk about it. That's the whole point. She doesn't have to be scared with me. "

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"Kurt, you're so brave. It's kinda studly."

"It's not fair for her to make you feel bad, you're just being honest. If she's your friend…"

Brittany pushed herself off of Kurt's shoulder and stood up from the couch. She hated sitting still for so long.

Kurt watched her pace the room.

"Well, what do you want then?"

Brittany stopped by Kurt's window. Since his room was in the basement, the grass outside was at eye level. She liked it, it made her feel like a gopher or a worm. She watched a bird peck at the dirt. "That would be like, a horror movie if I were a worm."

"What?" Kurt was completely baffled. He wondered how Santana even followed the conversation half the time.

Brittany turned back to Kurt and answered his first question. "I just want…her. I don't care if its only sometimes. I don't care about Puck or any of that. She's my best friend. We have fun. And she's super hot. And…"

Brittany trailed off. If she knew the words, she would have said that those moments, alone with Santana, when her guard was down and her hands were on Brittany's body, were the best moments of her life. That Santana was, in those intimate flashes, indescribably beautiful, a stunning combination of soft and vulnerable and giving and strong and protective and powerful. That when she could hardly breathe with wanting, Santana's kisses put air back in her lungs. That it wasn't really just the sex, but the other times, when San was helping her with homework, or baking cookies with Brittany and her sister, or singing next to her in glee, and their eyes met and their fingers touched and there was just everything, a whole glowing life in those glances. And even if that life was just a fantasy, it was their fantasy, and even if they never talked about it, they believed in it together.

But she didn't know the words.

"…and tasty."

Kurt sat up straighter. In his chest he felt the rumblings of a diatribe. Brittany deserved more and better than Santana's divided attention and secret shame. And he was going to explain it all very carefully and clearly. He was going make her see it.

But her wistful blue eyes stopped him. His mouth opened and his anger deflated.

"I get it. On my own, all I've got is my conviction. But whatever weirdness you've got with Santana, its something special."

Brittany nodded, and smile dawned that didn't fade.

Kurt shook a finger at Brittany. "But I'ma keep an eye on that girl. If she doesn't shape up at least a little for you, I'll cut a bitch."

Brittany laughed. "Like I said Kurt, you're studly when you're butch."

"Can we have a dance party now? Girl trouble is complicated."

Brittany clapped her hands excitedly and gave a little hop. "Ooh! Put on Britney!"

Kurt hurried over to the ipod dock. "I am SO glad you came to your senses on that issue."

* * *

Part 2: Santana talks to Quinn


	2. Chapter 2

Note: I meant to post this in 2 parts, but looks like its gonna be 3 after all. Part 3 will be up soon, I promise. ;)

And thank you all for the reviews. Please, keep reviewing and commenting!

* * *

Santana lay back on her bed, phone in hand. She had finished all her homework, cleaned her room, done 100 crunches, showered, and untagged herself in all those dumb pictures Berry had posted on Facebook and still, Brittany hadn't called her back. She took a deep breath and dialed again. Straight to voicemail. Again.

Santana stared at the phone in disbelief. "What the fuck?" She hung up without leaving a message.

She dropped the phone and flopped face down on the bed, burying her head in the duvet. She pushed her face down hard, until she couldn't breathe. She stayed like that until she felt a dull pain in her lungs and at her temples. When she came up for air, a dizzying rush zoomed through her. She felt nauseous for a second, then fine again. When her head was clear, she scooted up until her back was against the headboard, picked up the phone and jabbed at the texting icon on her phone's touchscreen.

"U seen B?"

Quinn must have been right near her phone, her reply came almost immediately.

"She left practice w Kurt"

"Shit." Santana muttered. Kurt was pretty smart.

Her phone was buzzing again, another text from Quinn.

"Whats up w u 2?"

"Nothing"

In seconds, Santana's phone was ringing. She rolled over onto her stomach and answered it.

"God, Quinn, I told you. Nothing."

"Well, then what was all that with Coach Sylvester today?"

"She just...Whatever."

"And why aren't you and Brittany sitting together? I mean, I know I've been busy with Sam, but I'm not completely out of it."

"It's fine." Santana corrected herself. "It'll be fine."

"What did you do to her?"

"Why does everyone assume I'm the villain?"

Quinn didn't even deign to answer that.

"Look, you don't need to pretend to care about us. I'm going to apologize and everything. It'll be ok." Santana realized that sounded too much like a question. She repeated it, more forcefully. "It'll be ok." She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.

"Apologize for what? Can we get some nouns in the conversation?"

Santana felt her throat tighten. She swallowed hard, shoving the tension down into her stomach, and shot back at Quinn.

"So this is a conversation now? I thought this was you giving me your usual hypocritical third degree and me getting severely pissed off about it. And hanging up the phone."

Quinn pursed her lips. She took a deep breath and pressed redial.

Santana answered, on speakerphone.

"Fucking _what_?"

"We used to be friends Santana"

"Yeah, well. We used to be virgins too. Can't turn back the clock Q."

Santana waited for the tears. But none came.

"That's exactly my point. We're not little kids anymore. Everything's changing. Everyone has changed. And I think maybe you and I, as young women..."

"What? Should be besties again? Should share our womanly burdens? Should fucking band together and start some sort of feminist commune where all we do is bake vagina cookies and watch Sex and the City?"

The words hung in the air for a second. Santana waited, stomach churning. Maybe a good screaming fight would help her sleep.

Quinn burst out laughing.

"Wow. You really need to calm down."

Santana stood up from the bed, crossing her arms. She walked over to her mirror, and studied her reflection. She kept her face still, her eyes roaming.

Back on the bed, Quinn's voice floated from the phone. "Everything is always so all or nothing with you. I'm just saying, I know you. I remember liking you. After all I went through last year, I...I think we have more in common than we used to. We should hang out. Goof off. And yes, definitely, bake vagina cookies."

Santana couldn't help it; she cracked a smile.

Even from across the room, Quinn heard the exhale.

"Look, really San, are you ok?"

Santana didn't turn away from the mirror right away. Quinn waited patiently. A minute later, she heard Santana switch off speakerphone and pickup the handset.

"I didn't mean to make her feel that bad. I just...reacted."

"What happened?"

Santana sank down to the floor, leaning her back against the side of her bed, her legs out straight in front of her. She breathed out hard through her nose and then just said it.

"She wanted to sing a duet with me."

Santana was surprised at how incredibly bland and innocent it sounded out loud.

Clearly Quinn thought so too. "So?"

Santana stuck to the facts. "I told her no."

"Why? I mean, you and Mercedes rocked it, but with you singing and Brit dancing I'm sure you guys could have..."

Santana felt panic rising, the familiar constriction at her throat. She spit her next words. "She wanted to sing some lesbotronic 90s song."

Quinn was still confused. "But its just a song. You could even have changed the lyrics if..."

"Quinn!" Santana's chest was heaving, her breath coming fast. "I'm not dyking out with Brittany in front of the whole _school_!"

"Okay." Quinn's voice was quiet, but her mind was racing. Her thoughts flashed across the years. She remembered the hot blush that had flashed through her body when she had stumbled through a door and into their drunken makeout session at a football party the summer before sophomore year. She remembered lying lonely and chilly in her sleeping bag, listening to their lingering goodnight snuggles at middle school sleepovers. She remembered two weeks ago at Cheerios practice, Brittany's long fingers trailing over Santana's smooth legs as she helped her stretch.

"Okay," she repeated, slowly.

Santana was already rushing ahead. "Then she got all mad and turned around and fucked Artie."

That shook Quinn awake again. "Wait, wait, Brittany had sex with Artie?"

"Ugh, don't repeat it."

"Sorry, it's just kind of..."

"Yeah, well, it grossed me out too. So I shut that down."

Santana didn't mention feeling a freezing cold burn in her stomach when she had seen Brittany in Artie's lap in the choir room, or the way her breath had stopped when she had watched Artie's gaze trailing up Brittany's thighs. Or the fact that she had run to the bathroom and actually puked when she saw that Artie was making Brittany giggle hysterically at lunch with his fucking stupid impression of a walrus with apple slices for tusks.

"Now she won't even talk." She drew her left knee up, wrapped an arm around it, drawing her thigh in close to her chest.

"But it's Brittany. She doesn't stay mad." Even as she said it, her own words came back to her. Everyone's changed.

Santana didn't answer, and Quinn rushed in to fill the sadness of that silence. "Like you said, you'll apologize. It'll be ok." Quinn nibbled on her bottom lip. She wasn't sure exactly what she was telling Santana to apologize for, but she thought that was right.

Santana knew that Quinn was missing ninety percent of the whole point of everything, but her third grade analysis of the situation was comforting. "Yeah." She pushed a hand through her long dark hair.

Quinn thought about it for a moment more and then spoke with more confidence. "San, really. Just talk to her. She's your best friend. She loves you."

Santana's head snapped up, her breath caught. But in her parallel world, Quinn was still talking.

"...maybe this weekend?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we totally should." Silence fell between them for a second. "Quinn, I've gotta get to bed. But...um..."

Quinn didn't make her say it. "You're welcome."

Santana rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched in a very small, very quick smile. "Goodnight Q."

She hung up the phone, then walked across to her desk and plugged it in to charge. She flicked off the light and climbed into bed, pulling the duvet cover all the way over her head.

"Goodnight Brittany" she whispered to herself, in the dark.**  
**


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Hey y'all! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you'll all enjoy this last part of the story. In the end, it took me a little longer than expected to write, because Brittana is complicated, and as much as I wanted them to get a happy ending, I also wanted to get that complexity to show in the story. Let me know how I did. :)

* * *

Santana waited at their lockers until after the bell, but Brittany didn't come.

Still, she lingered in the hall after it had emptied, fiddling with the lock on Brittany's locker. She knew the combination, but she didn't open it. She just ran through the sequence of numbers until she could tell that the lock was ready to give. Then she dialed past the combination, her careful fingers feeling the mechanism clamp down on itself again.

She did that three times. Then, a dirty look from a teacher trolling the halls sent her sauntering off toward pre-calc, 10 minutes late.

"Miss Lopez! So kind of you to join us." Santana rolled her eyes. Teachers were all working off the same corny script.

"Sorry." Santana shrugged and moved toward her seat.

"Wait a second Santana, do you have a pass?"

"A pass?" Santana echoed blankly. Passes were something Coach usually took care of, but the demotion to the bottom of the pyramid had meant the loss of a few perks as well.

"This is your third unexcused lateness this month"

Santana remembered now. Two weeks ago she and Brittany had driven out to IHOP to get B smiley face pancakes for breakfast. Most of first period had been over by the time they got back. Still, it had been so much fun they had done it again two days later.

Mrs. Caldwell was filling out a slip on her desk. She finished writing, tore off the sheet, and waved it in Santana's direction.

"Lunchtime detention."

Santana took the paper, glaring. On A days, she had double Bio and honors English way the hell on the other side of the building from Brittany. If she couldn't see Brittany at lunch, they wouldn't be able to really talk until Glee.

She slid into her seat. Kurt, at the desk in front of her, turned around, his mouth open to say something. Santana didn't want to hear it, so she kicked his chair. His chest hit the desk in front of him, knocking the wind out of him and that smug look off his face for a second. He fixed his eyes on his math book and didn't turn back around.

Santana crossed her arms and started thinking hard. If she had all day, she had better come up with something good to say.

* * *

Brittany bounced through the halls, happily greeting her friends, smiling at everyone. Hanging out with Kurt last night had really cheered her up. And today had been a pretty decent day so far. That morning, the sexy dentist had said her 68 cavities were all fixed and she didn't have to come back for another 6 months.

But as she approached the lunchroom, her pace slowed and the grin faded from her face. Although she had decided last night that she theoretically didn't really care about all that stuff Santana had said, the reality of walking into lunch and actually seeing Santana set bees buzzing in her stomach.

She dawdled on the lunch line, taking way too long to pick out a plain bagel and an apple juice.

As she paid for her food, she scanned the room. No Santana. The bees in her stomach buzzed a little harder. Brittany wondered if they were sad or mad.

Quinn and Sam were sitting at a table in the far corner. Quinn waved her over.

"Hey Brit. Come sit."

"Ok, that's worse than my 'Sam I am'"

Quinn laughed at Sam's joke, but Brittany just slid quietly in next to Quinn, her eyes still roaming the room.

Sam noticed and looked to Quinn, eyebrow raised. Quinn watched Brittany for a moment, and then shot a look back at Sam.

Sam got it. "Well ladies, if you'll excuse me, I have to go over there and do…some…super manly stuff."

He was pointing at a table where Artie, Finn, and some of the other football guys were having a chocolate milk chugging contest.

"Thanks" Quinn mouthed. Her fingers lingered on his arm as he got up.

Sam nodded, smiling. Brittany looked up and had to smile too. His mouth was just so giant.

Quinn watched Sam go and then turned back to Brittany.

Brittany ripped her bagel in half and tore a bite-sized piece from one of the ragged edges. "Where's Santana?"

Quinn was surprised. "You haven't seen her today?"

Brittany shook her head. "I was late." She pointed to her teeth. "Dentist. Again."

"Oh. Cause I know she wanted to talk to you."

"Really?" The hope in her voice was evident.

"Yes, really." Charmed by her guilelessness, Quinn felt a surge of love toward Brittany.

"Brittany, you know, if Santana's been mean to you, it's perfectly reasonable to still be mad."

Brittany tore her bagel into smaller pieces. "I was mad…I am. Sort of. But…I don't know…she…" She crinkled her brow, then fell silent.

Quinn frowned a little. Brittany's pretty blue eyes were still restless, scanning the room again. Quinn sighed and just gave the same advice that seemed to have worked last night.

"Just talk to her. She's your best friend. She loves you."

* * *

After 8th period, Santana booked it to the choir room. But when she got there, she stopped short at the door. She could see Brittany inside, standing and talking to Mercedes. Even from that distance, Santana could see her eyes sparkle and snap as she giggled over something Mercedes had said.

Santana breathed hard and pushed the door open, her eyes still on Brittany. She saw Brittany see her, watched a thrill come over her face. Like every thrill, it was equal parts excitement and fear. Santana felt a rush of power, then a sick lurch in her stomach.

"Hi."

Mercedes looked up when Santana spoke. Her eyes moved from Santana to Brittany and back again. Then she quickly melted away from her conversation with Brittany, moving up to the second row of chairs.

"Hi." Brittany spoke softly and waved, one of her little baby hand crunches.

"Where were you this morning?" Santana realized too late what she sounded like.

Brittany blinked at Santana and stayed quiet.

Santana tried again. "'Cause...I waited for you. I wanted to talk to you."

Brittany tilted her head to one side, listening.

As long as Brittany was looking at her, Santana would keep talking. "I waited so long I missed the bell. Caldwell gave me lunchtime detention. 'Cause we were late those other times too..."

Brittany broke into a grin. "Pancakes!"

Santana smiled back.

"I wondered where you were at lunch."

Santana crossed her arms over her chest and pressed hard against her ribs, trying to calm the wild beating of her heart.

"Come over after Glee."

Brittany sat down. She didn't speak right away.

Santana realized she should have made it more of a question. "Please?"

Brittany looked up at Santana, her eyes wide with surprise. Santana never said please. The fact that she was saying it now, with a hitch in her breathing and doubt in her brown eyes, here in front of everyone at Glee made Brittany feel warm, almost feverish. The bees in her stomach buzzed again.

"Or we could go to your house. Or anywhere you want..."

"San." Brittany kicked a little, her sneaker bumping Santana's. "I'll come."

Santana breathed again.

Coming back from the bathroom, Kurt saw the look on Santana's face. His chest still hurt from the shove she had given him this morning, but even he couldn't deny that she looked kinda gorgeous right then, beaming.

"My seat." Kurt pointed to the chair next to Brittany. Santana looked down. His bag and jacket were piled on the seat.

Her smile evaporated. She mumbled a goodbye to Brittany and stomped up to the back row.

Kurt raised an eyebrow in Brittany's direction, but her gaze was trained on Santana, watching her mount the risers, her back ramrod straight. When she turned back to Kurt, he changed the subject.

"What are you going to be for Halloween?"

* * *

Rehearsal was over, but Santana stayed in her seat. The others jostled and joked around her, collecting their jackets and book bags, discussing Rocky Horror plans.

Slowly, the room cleared. Kurt and Rachel walked out first, bickering over who should host a viewing party. Mercedes and Tina were right behind them, piping up with suggestions. Sam and Mike playfully elbowed each other through the doorway, and Finn helped Artie zip his sheet music into his bag and then pushed his chair out into the hall.

Santana made her way down to the front row where Brittany and Quinn were standing, talking about Columbia and Magenta costumes.

Quinn saw Santana coming. "I'm gonna go catch up with…everyone."

Santana smirked. "You're gonna go catch up with Sam."

Quinn blushed. "Be nice." She kept her eyes on Santana and inclined her head toward Brittany. "Seriously, be nice."

Santana nodded. "Yeah." She took a deep breath. "Yeah."

Quinn walked out, and Brittany turned to pick up her backpack.

"You want to follow me?" Santana asked.

Brittany shook her head. "I don't have my car, my mom dropped me off after the dentist."

"Oh. Ok. We'll take mine. And I'll drop you home after."

Santana felt a wave of calm wash over her. Even though nothing was really better yet, just having Brittany by her side, the prospect of two car rides and a whole afternoon together ahead made everything more bearable, successes more likely.

They headed out into the echoing halls. Brittany almost reached out to link her pinky with Santana's, but the small, persistent ache in her heart kept her hand at her side.

Out of the corner of her eye, Santana saw the quick, hesitating motion of Brittany's hand and saw her instead drop her fingers back to her side, fingering the fringe of her cheer skirt. The implications of the gesture scared her into silence.

In the car, the silence persisted. The 15-minute ride to Santana's house would usually have been filled with analysis of the day's events broken up by rounds of "Would You Rather…" and "Fuck, Marry, Kill." But today, Brittany fiddled with the radio and Santana just drove, her eyes straight ahead, her pretty mouth tucked into a straight line.

Santana was relieved to pull into her garage. For a moment, things were familiar. She unlocked the door and punched in the code to disarm the alarm. But inside the door, she hesitated. Usually she and Brittany would head right up to her bedroom, ignoring the rest of the empty house.

Santana thought about leading Brittany upstairs, skipping the talking and convincing Brittany with tickles and lingering kisses instead. She knew she could do it with enough insistence, zoom them straight back to normal.

But…Brittany's eyes lacked a certain something that she was used to. A certain glow that she preferred. She wanted it back and she strongly suspected that the part she wanted to skip might be the part that got that spark lit again.

So Santana tried the next easiest way she knew to make Brittany smile.

"You hungry?"

Brittany nodded enthusiastically.

She and Santana stuck to Coach Sylvester's bizarre diets…some of the time. But the rest of the time they just said fuck it and ate whatever the hell they wanted. They were busy, active, growing girls, and it didn't seem to make any difference anyway. Hence, the chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream smiley faces, and the double plates of pasta at Breadstix and the bounce in Brittany's step as she followed Santana into the kitchen.

"Hot or cold?"

Brittany knew this game. "Cold."

"Sweet or salty?"

Brittany scrunched her nose. "Mmm….sweet."

Santana pulled open the fridge and freezer doors. "Get bowls." She directed Brittany over her shoulder. "And spoons."

Brittany thought she knew what that meant. When she came back with the bowls and spoons, the growing pile of food on the counter confirmed her suspicions – chocolate and vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, caramel sauce, maraschino cherries, a can of whipped cream and sprinkles were all in evidence.

Santana was standing on tiptoe trying to reach a bag in a high pantry cabinet. With a little hop, she dislodged a bag of mini pretzels and caught it as it tumbled from the shelf.

She turned and held the bag out to Brittany.

"It sounded like maybe you wanted a little something salty too."

Santana was rewarded with a quick flash of the adoring smile that she missed so much. Her heart sped up. She ducked her head and quickly fell to work making her sundae, to cover up the fact that Brittany had her tongue-tied.

But this wasn't the awkward silence from the car. A more companionable quiet fell upon them as they scooped ice cream.

Brittany made decisions as she went and ended up with a scoop of vanilla and a scoop of chocolate covered in caramel sauce, topped with two crushed handfuls of pretzels and a squirt of whipped cream. Santana made the same sundae she always made, chocolate ice cream, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles. Her only diversion from tradition was the cherries – she had three.

Santana packed everything back into the freezer and fridge.

"Want to eat outside?"

They picked up their bowls and stepped through the sliding doors onto the deck.

The past week had been colder than usual for October, but today was bright and clear, and warmer than it should have been. Even now, as the sun dipped in the sky, casting an amber glow on the afternoon, it was still warm enough for them to sit outside without their jackets.

Brittany put her bowl down on the picnic table and turned to brush a few leaves off of a deck chair.

"You don't have a cherry." Santana took one of hers and dropped it onto Brittany's sundae, expecting a smile.

But Brittany just looked at her, curiously. And when she sat down and picked up her spoon, she ate around the cherry, digging deep and loading up a spoonful of chocolate ice cream, caramel sauce and pretzels instead.

Santana ate one of the cherries off of her own sundae, but it hardly tasted like anything.

Seated cross-legged on the chaise, Brittany watched Santana poke at her ice cream, still standing.

"San," Brittany said softly "sit."

Santana moved to drag another chair over.

"No." Brittany said. "Sit." She gestured to the end of the chaise lounge she was sitting on.

Santana let out a breath and quickly sat, facing Brittany, mirroring her cross-legged pose. The next bite she took reminded her why she loved chocolate sundaes – the rich, dark flavor of the ice cream and chocolate sauce mixing with the velvety smooth whipped cream.

Santana was still trying to figure out how to start when Brittany spoke.

"Was Coach mad at you? Yesterday?"

Santana shook her head. "Not really. Actually, she was pretty nice." She took another bite, stalling. "…She asked me why I was so mad."

Brittany licked caramel from the back of her spoon. "You have been kind of smash-y…" She trailed off, swirling her spoon in her melting ice cream. "I mean, it seemed that way. From across the room."

"That's kind of what made me mad."

Brittany looked up, needing clarification.

"That you were way across the room." Santana explained.

"I made you mad?"

"No! No..." Santana's gaze darted from Brittany's eyes to her mouth, to her own hands in her lap, then finally focused on a scrape on Brittany's knee. "Not having you next to me made me mad."

"Cause you're like a lizard? You get cranky when you're cold?"

Santana looked up quickly, and caught a wry grin flitting over Brittany's face.

Santana tried to answer, but her throat was tight. She picked the remaining cherry off of her sundae and bit it off of the stem. She chewed, swallowed, and it was easier to talk.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"It doesn't matter that you said it. It only matters if it's true." Brittany forced Santana to hold her gaze. "Is it?"

Santana breathed out. Her mouth was slightly open and she felt the delicate whisper of her own breath over her lips. She didn't breathe back in.

She looked at Brittany, bathed in the light of the setting sun. Her hair glowed gold and rose, her blue eyes matched the fading streaks of daylight in the sky.

Santana gulped air. Her voice was strained and small, but she got it out. "No."

She reached down and put her empty bowl on the deck, under the chair. She was glad the light was behind her, keeping her features in shadow as she tried to explain.

"Glee's cool and all. And everyone's into expressing their feelings and being supportive and whatever. But…me and you…we're private."

"Private, or secret?"

Santana didn't answer. Her jaw tensed, she ground her front teeth together. She breathed fast through her nose, trying hard to keep tears back.

Brittany didn't wait for them to spill over. She reached out and took Santana's hand, ran her thumb over the pads of Santana's fingers.

"You kind of suck at apologizing."

"I'm better at other things," Santana tried to smirk, but tears wet her long eyelashes, undermining the effort.

"I know you are."

Brittany leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on the corner of Santana's mouth.

Santana sighed, so hard it was almost a sob. She moved her head, searching for more of Brittany's mouth, but it was already gone.

"Oh…kay."

Brittany was surprised at herself, but her voice gained confidence as she spoke. "Just…for right now."

Santana looked away, off into the darkening sky.

Brittany picked up her bowl, almost empty now. She used her spoon to slurp up the last of her sundae, and scoop up the cherry from the bottom of the bowl. She plucked off the stem and held the cherry out to Santana.

"Hey."

Santana looked back at Brittany.

"I saved it for you."

Santana managed a smile. She leaned in and bit into the cherry. The acid chemical sweetness coated her tongue.

She left a kiss on Brittany's sticky fingers.

Brittany laughed and the sound was like a flash of fire, streaking through the dim evening light.

* * *

**Epilogue**

The next day, when Brittany's hand strayed toward Santana's as they walked down the hall together, Santana didn't give her a chance to hesitate. She linked her pinkie to Brittany's, and swung their hands between them, happy to feel Brittany's warm skin close to hers.

The day after, Brittany climbed up and joined Santana in the back row in Glee again. She laughed at her jokes, made fun of Finn with her, and let her knees bump and linger against Santana's. She asked her to come over for dinner and played with her hair while they sprawled on the couch in the den and waited for Brittany's mom to call them to the table.

And a few days after that, while they spied on Mr. Schue and Ms. Pillsbury, Santana's hand trailed along Brittany's thigh and Brittany shivered into the touch. And when they bounced off through the halls, laughing and dancing, and Santana said she wanted to be dirty, she meant it and Brittany could tell, and pulled her down a dark hallway and laid a bruising kiss on her mouth.

The knot in Santana's chest finally came loose. She caught Brittany's lower lip between her teeth and pulled it into her mouth, sucking a sweetness that was anything but artificial. She breathed in deep, breathing Brittany's breath.

And it was almost like nothing had ever happened.

Almost.


End file.
